


A Crowd of Laughing Faces

by ERROR404CANNOTFUNCTION



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Do not repost, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 08:41:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20850617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ERROR404CANNOTFUNCTION/pseuds/ERROR404CANNOTFUNCTION
Summary: This is a piece I did a few years ago on why I don't sing anymore. I have an amazing support system now, so I feel comfortable sharing it with others that might be going through the same thing.





	A Crowd of Laughing Faces

**Author's Note:**

> Please remember this is a vent piece I did, there is no need for hate.

I remember watching “The Phantom of The Opera” for the first time when I was 6 years old. Emmy Rossum, the lead actress, was so enchanting on my television screen. She played Christine Daae in a tragic story about love, music, and the true beauty of life. Throughout my life, I would always sing and practice being the best Christine I could be. Finally, I reached high school and was able to be in the choir and sing to my heart’s content in the background of school musicals. I was so happy when my teacher agreed that I should try out for All-State, a very high honor if accepted.

  
Even though I practiced hard, I couldn’t good enough to be with all those beautiful voices. Being constantly reassured by the other singers about my voice wasn’t enough, because I had low self-esteem. It wasn’t possible that I might be good at something after so much bullying in my old school. People were so positive and comforting, but in my eyes, they were also better than me. I wasn’t able to trust or believe the others because I doubted myself and my abilities. Soon I had decided to stop singing in front of other people, no matter who they were.

  
The first time I sang in front of my choir class, it was a Mock Audition for All-State entries. I felt as though my heart would burst forth from my chest, anxiety and happiness warring in my heart as I waited to be ‘summoned by the judge’. Back straight, chin up, smile brightly for the class. That was my mantra walking out into the middle of the room, standing on that little duct tape X and introducing myself in front of people that already knew me. The staring upset me, but I couldn’t look away. Being the center of attention was more horrible than I could ever imagine. My head is full of worries and self-criticisms, so many thoughts flying by I couldn’t hold my composure. As I sang, the smiles of my peers turned to sneers, their quiet clapping sounded like snickering. I was shaking, my voice breaking, I had to redo the song “Alleluia” four times before the teacher let me sit down. I couldn’t even cry, I couldn’t stand my own voice.

  
As part of Mock Auditions, the teacher would record every group, then send the recordings out so we could work on certain things we noticed about our performances. I only watched mine once, halfway through I noticed something about my composure. I didn’t shake, my expression never changed, and I looked angry. I was so scared during those Mock Auditions, that I turned into a statue and my face rearranged itself into a look of agonized hatred. Every time my voice broke or I would hit a bad note, my face would freeze up even more.

  
Before every Mock Audition, I would poke and prod at my face in the bathroom, trying to make different expressions. If my face freezes, it should be in the correct position. An awestruck smile! I always thought that, but when I got out, walking towards that little duct tape X became harder and harder. As I sang, my face would smooth out, and my posture would become like a wooden plank. No matter how hard I tried, my voice kept breaking, my notes so far off the teacher stopped asking me to repeat the songs because it would take too long. Everyone would support me and clap at the end, but it was always hesitant, like they didn’t know if my performance was worth it or not. I couldn’t take it anymore, the stares and my thoughts became too much. I stopped participating in class and soon switched my schedule out of the choir so I could avoid it. The thing I loved and dreamed about for so long, I no longer enjoyed.

  
I used to dream about that lively stage full of wonderful applause and encores. Now that dream turns into a nightmare of being alone on a pedestal for everyone to gawk at. Seeing how beautiful a performance could be with a little professional editing and sound checks made my nightmare all the more real. My mother would record my singing, announcing her pride to the world through Facebook. It became exhausting, listening to everyone talk about how wonderful and gifted I was when I knew they were faking the praise. I could feel the secret jeers as they stared. Different scenarios would play through my head of people voicing their real opinions for so long, I thought I could handle it. I was trapped in an endless cycle of being told one thing and experiencing all the lies people didn’t want to voice.

  
Standing alone in front of my peers. The sound of my heart like a bass drum, shaking me to my core... Unable to move, I can feel the cold creeping up in waves of goosebumps. The peer judges stare felt like fingernails scraping at my consciousness. The distance between me and them became so vast, they blurred. My mental breakdown created thousands of laughing faces out of forty friends, rows upon rows shadowed chuckling people. I had to try so hard to keep the tears from my face, and the trembling from showing.

  
In front of others, singing became a chore. My thoughts and hopes could never live up to the reality that I froze so easily, and missed notes so often. I became angry with myself and the people surrounding me. Every time they asked, “why not?” I would lose my temper and end up going home alone and defeated. Soon, people stopped asking and I was able to pretend nothing about it bothered me. I stopped singing in front of people I feared would judge me. Even my friends stopped mentioning the thing I had loved so much. Singing freely on a stage had been my dream for so long, but that stage was now hot and suffocating. I couldn’t breathe because I feared to have to listen to myself create even the smallest of noises. Large crowds still intimidated me. I just couldn’t do it anymore, it was so much better to stop. To this day, I still prefer being silent and supported, instead of alone in a crowd of laughing faces.


End file.
